


Paper Planes

by clockworkIncendiary



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Pointless fluff, Sparklings, deaging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-19
Updated: 2014-12-19
Packaged: 2018-03-02 06:06:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2802257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clockworkIncendiary/pseuds/clockworkIncendiary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shenanigans in Brainstorm's lab turn Drift into a sparkling and Ratchet has to babysit. Rodimus is amused.</p><p>Now with extra scene for bonus fluff!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paper Planes

“Hey, Ratchet?”

Ratchet nearly cringed when he heard Rodimus call into the medbay. The tone in his voice never meant anything good. He turned around, expecting to see Rodimus had accidentally welded his fingers together again with the damn laser scalpel he’d swiped from the medbay at some point, or something equally ridiculous. Instead, he was met with the sight of his captain carrying a small white sparkling propped on his hip. 

“...What the frag?”

“Dunno. I heard a project Brainstorm was working on exploded or something. Percy’s trying to figure out what went wrong once he gets Brainstorm under control. He’s like this too.”

Rodimus held the squirming sparking out from his body, leaving his little legs to flail about in the air. Drift chirped nervously and looked at Rodimus with wide optics.

“Percy told me to watch him cause he can’t handle two sparklings, but Magnus and I have a meeting for something and he keeps making these weird noises and I dunno what to do.”

In short, I don’t want or know how to take care of him; you do it. 

Ratchet sighed. He needed to give Magnus a talk about Rodimus and responsibility. Granted their captain’s spark was in the right place, but he still needed to think before he acted and keep up with the duties that came with his position. He cared, but unfortunately had the attention span of a glitchmouse. 

“No one thought to tell me about this? Give him here; I need to look him over.”

He was worried about the effects of whatever happened, even if Drift looked fine at a glance there could still be internal problems. Percy knew enough basic medical care to check Brainstorm over and and call him if there were any problems, that is if nothing showed up on Drift’s results that alerted him he needed to rush down to the labs.

He moved to take Drift, who made a distressed noise as he was taken; however, he settled when cradled close to Ratchet’s chest and a forearm used to support his body. 

Large, bright optics looked up at Ratchet curiously, trying to figure out who this new mech holding him was. He wasn’t as colourful as the other mech. And his field was different, not as overpowering as the bright mech’s. When Drift probed his field in question, he was met with acceptance and greeting. He could feel a buzz of irritation in the other mech’s field too, but sensed it wasn’t directed at him. He liked this one and chirped up at him.

“Well, since you seem to have everything under control, I’m going to head out. I’ll check back in later, though.”

Rodimus chipperly waved goodbye as he walked out of the Medbay.

Drift scrunched his face up in an ugly frown when the colorful mech left. He didn’t understand why he was leaving and he didn’t want him to go. He reached out and cried out for him to come back.

“Hey now, none of that,” said Ratchet as he shifted Drift in his grasp and gently bounced him, humming an old tune he knew from long ago. Drift quieted quickly, the distress in his field fading away as he realized he had Ratchet’s attention. When Ratchet stroked one of his head finials his optics slipped halfway shut and leaned into his touch. His engine rumbled in a pleased purr as he snuggled closer and sighed happily. 

Getting Drift to cooperate for the exam was surprisingly easy, far easier than when his was his correct size and in full possession of his processors. All Ratchet had to was pet his head or rub his back and the kid was nearly completely compliant. It was like he was starved for attention. Mostly he just watched as the joints in his hands and legs were rotated, and huffed irritably when Ratchet shined a penlight in his optics and checked his intakes, but then again, who actually liked that part of the exam?

He seemed perfectly healthy for a few vorn old sparkling, which was about how old Ratchet estimated Drift to be, given that he relied on sparkling chatter, rather than talking like most older sparklings did before they upgraded to their youngling frames. He also did not seem to remember being an adult, which Ratchet found a little worrying. He hoped this wasn’t something permanent. For several reasons, including that the ship was no place to rear a child. Although he was kinda cute when he was that small though… 

Ratchet turned to put one of the examining tools in a pile to be cleaned, leaving Drift sitting on the exam table, and commed Percy. He received a clipped reply that nothing had changed, other than Brainstorm was apparently uncooperative and fussy and Percy was still running tests to see what exactly caused the explosion. By the time Ratchet returned his attentions to Drift, the little white sparkling was gone. His spark sank in his chest.

“Drift?” he called.

He heard a giggle emanate from underneath one of medberths and when he bent over he saw bright blue optics shining out from the shadows.

“You going to come out?” 

Drift shook his head. Ratchet was actually okay with that; if he was content to stay under the medberth, then he was contained and Ratchet could easily keep an eye on him. If he got too wild, he could always make one of those child leashes he’d heard about on earth. He snorted a laugh at the thought.

He kept his tertiary sensors tuned to his “guest” as he returned to work. Drift chittered at him as he explored the medbay, although he didn’t stray far from where Ratchet was standing at the counter filling out forms and returned often, leaning against the larger mech’s legs and soaking in his EM field. 

Ratchet looked up from his reports when he felt a tiny clawed hand smack his leg. It had been a few minutes since he last heard tiny feet patter across the floor.

_Click, click, click._

When he glanced down, Drift offered him a dirty screw he had found. 

“Yes, very nice,” he murmured absent mindedly as he continued to work. 

He didn’t notice Drift frowning, only when the sparkling clambered onto his feet and waved the hand holding the screw did he look again.

“I said I saw.”

Drift grumbled and thrust the screw at Ratchet, making exaggerated movements in an attempt to get his point across.

_Oh._

Ratchet crouched and cupped his fingers together as Drift placed the grimy object in his hands.

“Thanks, kid.”

He felt a little self satisfied flare of an EM field as Drift toddled off back under the medberth. Ratchet was mostly finished with his reports when he heard the door open.

“Sorry I’m a little late. I got held up in the hallways,” First Aid said as he palmed the check in scanner by the door. 

He started to walk towards Ratchet, passing the berth Drift was hiding under.

“AAAARRRRR!” Drift roared as he charged out from underneath the berth and attacked First Aid’s ankles, giving them several quick slaps before darting off.

“What the frag?” First Aid gave a startled yelp as he jumped back, his visor brightening several shades of blue and plating slicking down in defense. 

Drift ran squealing to Ratchet, who scooped him up.

“Come here, you,” Ratchet chuckled as his apprentice walked over, his hand still over his spark. 

“Primus, he’s rambunctious,” First Aid said, “I heard about what happened from Rodimus; he was bringing energon to Perceptor while I was getting lunch.”

“Yeah, but he’s been pretty good for a sparkling.”

First Aid watched in amusement as Ratchet wiggled his fingers at the sparkling so he could bat at them, only to snatch them back as they were almost caught. He was thankful he had a facemask, otherwise he wouldn't be able to hide the grin at his usually serious boss playing with a sparkling. The game went back and forth, with a tickle sometimes being snuck in, until Drift started to look frustrated. Ratchet gently ruffled his head and gave a low, clicking mock-growl. Drift yapped at him and latched onto his arm with his hands and legs.

The medics chuckled until Ratchet had to hide a wince when Drift started nipping his fingers. He dialed down the sensitivity in his hands several notches since Drift growled when he tried to remove his fingers from his mouth; just because Drift was a lot smaller, didn’t mean his fangs were any less sharp. 

“You think he’s hungry?” First Aid asked, nodding at the sparkling currently gnawing on Ratchet’s fingers. 

“Possibly; it’s about time for me to take a break anyway. You hungry, kid?”

Ratchet tapped Drift’s olfactory sensor with a wet index finger and jerked it back when Drift snapped at it, teeth clicking hard enough to be heard.

First Aid’s visor glowed in a way that meant he would have had a big dopey smile on his face, if he had a mouth. He loved kids; they were so cute at that age.

“I’ve got the medbay covered; you guys go get some energon.”

“We’ll be back shortly.”

Ratchet shifted his grip on Drift and swung him up over his head, so he was sitting on his shoulders. Drift chirred happily and held onto the sides of Ratchet’s helm. He looked around excitedly; he could see so much more from up here! He chattered about everything he saw to Ratchet, sometimes pointing out certain things, as they walked down the hall.

The corners of Ratchet’s mouth twitched up at the simple delight in the others field. They weren’t going very far; he didn’t see the point in going all the way to Swerve’s. Despite having things other than Engex and highgrade on the menu, it was nothing a sparkling’s tank could handle and he wanted to keep as few of the crew involved as possible, although it was mostly to avoid the inevitable gawking than anything. Instead they were heading to a little storage down the hall. Since his assistants didn’t really have offices, they had converted part of the storage room into a break room for when they needed to eat on their shifts. They drug in a large shared desk that doubled as a table and a couple chairs, if he remembered correctly. He hadn’t visited since the day he cleared it for their use and helped them rearrange the shelves for the desk. 

He had to stoop a little when going through the door so Drift’s finials wouldn’t bump the doorjamb. He selected a cube of low grade for Drift and a mild mid grade for himself off one of the shelves, letting go of the sparkling’s legs and trusting him to hold on while his hands were otherwise occupied. 

Drift looked up at him curiously when he sat him in the chair, until he saw the energon. His blue optics tracked the cube. Ratchet cracked the cube of low grade and started to hand it to Drift before sitting it on the desk.

“Let me get you a smaller container to drink out of. That one is a bit big for you.”

He barely got the words out of his mouth before Drift hauled himself up on the table and snatched the cube. He lifted it to his mouth with both hands, since it was almost the size of his helm, and gulped the energon down as quickly as it would fit into his intake. 

“Hey!”

Ratchet tried to grab the cube, but was met with a snarl and bared fangs. Drift paused his drinking long enough to scoot out of Ratchet’s reach and curl around the cube so it was no longer directly in Ratchet’s line of sight. 

Ratchet frowned. That wasn’t normal sparkling behavior at all - that level of fuel aggression was something he had only seen in technianimals or starving mechs.

“Don’t drink it so fast, you’ll give yourself a tankache.”

He rubbed the tiny armour flares on Drift’s back while Drift hunched further over his cube and emitted a burbling growl, clearly displeased at being messed with while he was eating.

Ratchet sighed and sipped his own cube. Now that he thought about it, he rarely saw Drift eat a meal in front of others; snack sure, maybe a drink after a shift, but never enough to qualify as a full meal. And the few times he could remember Drift eating with the crew he usually sat in the corner of the bar. 

He was interrupted from his thoughts by a whimper. Drift had nearly finished an adult sized cube in record time. His little hands clutched at his belly; the thin plating had distended to make room for a full tank. Normally sparklings had static tanks to keep them from ingesting too much fuel in too short a period, but Drift was a racing frame. His adult frame had a bladder tank made from lightweight, flexible polymers that could expand or shrink depending on how full it was, which saved on weight. Ratchet really shouldn’t have been surprised he still had it. 

Poor kid looked absolutely miserable.

“I told you so. Not that you normally do, but are you going to listen to me next time?”

Drift whimpered again and looked at Ratchet with mournful optics. Ratchet shook his head, but reached for the sparkling and sat him in his lap. He stroked his back a few times before cupping his hand around the smooth bulge of his tanks, hoping the heat from his hand would alleviate some of the discomfort. 

Drift tilted his head back so he could see Ratchet and warbled, lips jutting out in a pout. 

“Take a nap; you’ll feel better when you wake up.”

It wasn’t long until Drift was dozing draped over Ratchet’s thigh, lulled to sleep by a combination of a very full tank and the soothing heat and sound of Ratchet’s systems idling. Ratchet finished the last few swallows of his cube and subspaced the empty containers to recycle later.

He gathered up the sparkling in his arms. Drift barely onlined his optics when he was moved. He cooed drowsily and smiled up at Ratchet before burrowing his face into the medic’s chestplate and going back to sleep. 

Ratchet craned his neck down to nuzzle his cheek in the safety of the storage room where there was no one to see an old medic going soft. 

He walked them back to his office and shut the door after grabbing a couple blankets on the way. The medbay proper would be a little too noisy for a sparking to nap. He thought for a moment, he didn’t have a bed and he didn’t want to leave him sleeping in his desk chair. From previous stints in the medbay, he knew Drift wiggled around in his sleep. He briefly considered cleaning out one of his desk drawers, but nixed the idea when he thought of Drift accidently trapping himself inside. 

In the end, he rolled his chair to the other side of his desk and made a pallet out of the blankets in the foot space; it was plenty big enough for a sparkling and it was walled in on three sides to keep Drift from rolling around too much.

He eased Drift into the space and tucked him in with one of the corners. He watched him sleep for a moment - the kid looked so peaceful and sweet, although the latter was something he would only admit to himself. He gently stroked the bridge of the kid’s nose with a fingertip and suppressed the contented hum that threatened to buzz from his vocalizer when tiny lips quirked into a smile, even in sleep.

He crept out of the office and made sure the door was shut. He still had a little work to do and he couldn’t sit around all afternoon watching a sparkling sleep.  
He was most of the way finished with synthesizing a new batch of medical grade engeron when he heard a scream. He jumped and hissed as he dropped the beaker he was mixing a buffer solution in.

His spark dropped in his chest and it killed him a dozen different ways when he registered what he was hearing. As much as Ratchet hated it, it’s a sound he heard back on Cybertron when he worked in the Dead end. It’s a terrible, keening, ululating, wail; a child who’s calling for someone who’s not coming and it’s desperately lonely.

No kid should have a reason to make them sound like that.

Ratchet sprinted towards his office, the broken beaker forgotten.

Drift was still screaming when the door opened. He managed to crawl out from under the desk and was standing in the middle of the office, his optics streaking light.

“Kid? Drift? It’s okay.” 

Drift took one look at Ratchet before flinging himself at him. 

Ratchet dropped to the ground in one fluid movement and wrapped both arms around the frantic sparkling, curling his bulky frame around him as much as possible. He hushed him and used his EM field to smooth over the other’s ragged one. Drift clung as close to Ratchet as plating would allow, clutching onto the edge of the larger mech’s windshield.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m here; I’ve got you.”

He murmured reassurances and rocked them until Drift stopped trembling. He stroked his back and lowered his engine into a soothing thrum. Drift still shuddered the occasional ventilation and situated himself so that his head was resting over Ratchet’s spark, exhausted, but unwilling to go back to sleep.

“See? You’re alright.”

He thumbed the sparkling’s cheek. Drift whimpered when he tried to sit him down, so he quietly opened a com to First Aid and asked him to finish the med-grade synthesis; he needed to take care of Drift. 

He wished he could ask Drift what upset him. He moved them to his desk chair, mostly at a loss for what to do. He liked kids, yes, would protect them to to best of his ability, yes, but he wasn’t the best at comforting. He could do it with most patients, but that was because he was trained to do so; he’d taken classes at the University to help with grief and fear and how to give advice. He had never specialized in sparklings, though.

“You’re not alone, you know?”

He ran his fingers down Drift’s spinal strut before giving him another hug, at which he heard a pleased sigh. He sat holding Drift for a little while longer before he got an idea.

It took awhile for Drift to calm down enough for Ratchet to sit him down. He moved the pallet in between the two bookshelves in his office. Over the course of the afternoon they built some ramps out of boxes of medical equipment and scrap metal. Ratchet gave Drift two ball bearings he salvaged from some knee joints. He’d been meaning to melt them down and recast them; they were too old and dented to reuse, but he’d never gotten around to it. The made a pretty decent pair of makeshift sparkling toys, though. 

Drift was utterly fascinated with dropping the bearings and watching them wobble down the ramps.

Again. He clapped his hands when they clattered of the end and rolled across the floor; again. The ramps were rebuilt until they were taller than him, about a half of the way up the bookshelf, and he had to stand on his pedetips to reach the top. 

He ran around the office and hid under the desk which Ratchet was leaning against; it was easier to play with Drift that way. And make sure he didn’t try to throw one of the bearings. They were a lot heavier than they looked and avoiding breaking something or not smashing fingers or peds was a definite goal. 

Ratchet had to stifle a laugh when he heard a giggle and a tiny hand reached out from underneath the desk and clawed at his hand. It batted around rapidly, trying to catch his fingers as he moved them out of reach. He turned so he was facing the desk and waited for the hand to stop moving, palm up, before he poked it. The fingers curled into a clawed fist around his finger and Drift growled from behind the desk, then shrieked when Ratchet wrapped his much larger hand around his. Drift struggled for a moment until he was able to snatch his and back and scuttled out from behind the desk. 

Ratchet actually did laugh when he felt Drift scale his back, claws digging into transformation seams, until he reached the medic’s shoulders where he rubbed their faces together. He then slid over his shoulders into the larger mech’s lap, with a little help to keep his helm from smacking something.

Ratchet tickled his sides and laughed with Drift until Drift’s laugh’s came out in shuddering gasps. He leaned back against Ratchet, chest heaving and the occasional giggle slipping out until he calmed down. 

“You’re wild.”

Ratchet’s elbows were resting on his knees, so he was hunched slightly over the sparkling. He paused when he felt Drift grasp his hands in both of his and manipulate it until it was flat. He watched as Drift slowly pressed their palms together, as if comparing the size. The look of innocent wonder on the kid’s face made something catch in his in his throat. He closed his hand around Drift’s, completely engulfing it and giving it a gentle squeeze. When he opened it, Drift kept holding on, seemingly fascinated by the play of red and black plating.

That kept Drift occupied until First Aid called Ratchet out of the office to review some test results. He scrambled from his lap and followed after him so closely the medic nearly tripped over the sparkling. When he saw First Aid, he looked at Ratchet for a long moment before slowly sneaking under the table the two adults were talking at, the call to cause a little mischief to great. 

He ran out from underneath the table when he heard First Aid walk off, intending to startle him like he did earlier. He smacked the back First Aid’s legs again, but got no reaction.

First Aid had watched him sneak under the table. His optics twinkled as he turned around and stomped his foot and rumbled his engine at the sparkling. 

He watched in amusement as Drift froze and slowly flared his plating out in a desperate attempt to look far bigger than he was. 

The moment broke as Drift spun on his ped. He hissed threateningly from behind the safety of Ratchet’s legs and looked utterly betrayed when Ratchet’s field flared in spark deep amusement. He scowled when he was picked up and propped on the medic’s hip.

“Bye little one.”

First Aid wiggled his fingers at them, but Drift ignored him in favour of angrily hiding his face into Ratchet’s windshield, so he wouldn't have to look. He pouted until he felt Ratchet flop down in his chair.

The medic used his feet to back them over to the right side of the desk and opened his bottom desk drawer, rummaging around until he dug out a small glass jar that glowed dimly with energon goodies. He picked through them; he’d eaten most of the good ones that were suitable for a sparkling. Most of the ones that were left were either unpopular flavours or the ones with a gelled high grade center, which he saved for special occasions and were definitely not for sparklings. 

He finally scooped one out that was a dull, milky blue with zinc shaving suspended in it and on a stick. He passed it to Drift, who immediately perked up at the sight of food.  
Drift licked it and gave a surprised warble when he realized it was a treat; Ratchet had to stop if from cramming the entire thing, stick and all, in his mouth. Ratchet held his fist in his larger one, until he seemed to understand Ratchet was more likely to take it from him if he tried to down it in one go. He rested his head back against Ratchet’s windshield, sucking on it happily.

Ratchet hummed to him as he scooted in front of his desk and picked up a data pad, deciding to read for as long as Drift was content to sit in his lap. 

A few hours later, the medbay’s door gave a ping and swooshed open. 

“Ratchet? Drift? I brought some energon and I have some news from Perceptor. I didn’t see you in the medbay, so I thought you might be in here,” Rodimus said as he opened the door to Ratchet’s office. He spent the whole day running between Magnus and Perceptor and clearing anything Perceptor needed to run experiments to see what went wrong and how to reverse it. He’d meant to stop by earlier to see if Ratchet had needed help and to bring a data pad for Drift to draw on. It wasn’t much, but hopefully it would keep him entertained for a little while.

He broke into a grin at the sight in front of him. Both Ratchet and Drift were asleep. Ratchet had his pedes kicked up on his desk, so he could lean back further with Drift cuddled into his chest. One of his large red hands was cupped protectively around the sparklings back and his head was bent so his cheek rested on top of Drift’s head. Drift was sucking on his knuckles and purring quietly, the rhythm interrupted by his ventilations. 

It was a sweet image; one that definitely needed to be saved for posterity, or at least to tease Ratchet with later. Rodimus snapped a few pictures before quietly backing out of the office. He was going to tell them that whatever had caused Drift and Brainstorm seemed to wear off with a little time; Brainstorm was already a mech again. He decided, with a slag-eating grin, that knowledge could wait until they woke up.

**Author's Note:**

> Edited version from what I posted on tumblr.  
> This sat around on my Drive unfinished for about half a year until Vienn_Peridot prompted me to finish this.


End file.
